


Silken Night

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Femslash, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, The Quidditch Pitch: The Ladies Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-04
Updated: 2008-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione is searching for love in all the wrong places until someone totally unexpected comes into her life.





	Silken Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Betaed and Brit-picked by my friend, SAS33

Hermione Granger sat by herself at a table in a small café in Diagon Alley, one of many that had opened since the end of the war against Voldemort some four years ago.

  
The beautiful, young witch was drinking tea, wondering where her life was going right now.

  
"For being considered the brightest witch of my age," she mused ruefully, "I seem to have made a lot of bad choices."

  
Her ‘fairy-tale’ romance with Ron Weasley was anything but. It was much more difficult to walk away from arguments, as she had at Hogwarts, if they were living together. Actually, over the last four years, they had spent a good deal more time apart than together. Something was missing from their relationship, from any of the numerous relationships that Hermione had attempted over that period of time.

  
She reflected that for being twenty-three years old, and being considered one of the loveliest witches around, she was still relatively inexperienced with sex compared to most of her contemporaries. She spent a month with Ron after leaving Hogwarts, and in the ensuing three years or so stayed with him maybe another three months total. She had had unsatisfying flings with both his brother Charlie and brother George, as well as several other men, wizards and Muggles alike. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex, but after the initial bloom wore off with a partner, it just didn’t do that much for her.

  
Ginny and Harry were married now, not that it really made any difference in their sex life from when they were simply living together. The bubbly redhead would regale her with stories of them shagging two, three, even four times a day. Katie Bell, now George’s live-in girlfriend, would gush over their sex as well, as did many of her female friends. Hermione reflected that in the approximately three and a half years that she had been sexually active, she probably hadn’t had intercourse more than maybe two hundred times, maybe even less. If Ginny was telling the truth, she had that much every couple of months.

  
She had just left Ron again this very morning after another fight over something trivial, she didn’t even remember what they were arguing about. She sighed into her tea, wondering what was wrong with her.

  
"‘Ermione?" a sweet, lyrical voice asked. "‘Ermione? Is zat you?"

  
Hermione looked up from her cup into the amazing, pale blue eyes and gorgeous face of Gabrielle Delacour.

  
"Gabrielle? I...I didn’t realize you were in England," Hermione said, feeling her heart flutter just a little for some reason.

  
"Oh, I came to zee my latest niece," the part-Veela smiled, sitting down uninvited. "She is very Weasley, zis one, lots of red ‘air. Not like Victoire, who is mostly Veela. What ‘ave you been up to since I saw you last? It must be two years or more. Yes, ‘Arry and Geenee’s wedding, _n’est-ce pas_?"

  
"I guess so," Hermione replied, trying to control the sudden heat that had settled in between her stomach and thighs. What was it about Gabrielle that made her react like this. Any time they had met while she was visiting before and after Harry and Ginny’s wedding, she had found herself staring at the ethereally beautiful, pale, blond witch. Her eyes were hypnotizing, her lips were full and lush and begging to be kissed. Her perfect figure in the clinging robes she wore had Hermione wondering what it would feel like to touch and caress her flawless skin.

  
"What am I thinking?" Hermione had admonished herself at the time. "I don’t like women. Not like that!"

  
"A Knut for your thoughts, _ma copine_ ," Gabrielle asked, her pink, pointy tongue flicking out and circling her luscious lips.

  
"I ... I ... I, well, it’s nothing," Hermione sighed. "Just another fight with Ron. I supposed I’ll go back again in a few days."

  
"Why should you do zat?" Gabrielle asked. "If you are not, umm, compatible, yes, compatible, why do you inzizt on torturing yourself?"

  
"I like Ron, I do, it’s just ... just ..."

  
"It’s just what, ‘Ermione?" Gabrielle persisted. "Tell you what. I can tell you need some girl time. Let’s go shopping, eh?"

  
"I don’t do that," Hermione demurred. "I’ll just go back to my parents’ old house and read and watch the telly."

  
"Nonsense!" Gabrielle said, standing and pulling Hermione up with her. "Brooding alone is ze worst zing you can do! Come! We’ll get you some sexy lingerie, some clingy clothes, so you can feel good about yourself!"

  
"I feel just fine about myself," Hermione stated as Gabrielle hauled her out the door. "Sexy lingerie is a waste of money. Underclothes are simply meant to be practical."

  
"No, zey are next to your skin, so zey should be soft and sensuous and titillating, like zis."

Gabrielle undid the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing a lacy, frilly, pink silk brassiere. Hermione’s legs trembled and her mouth became dry as she stared at the soft swell of Gabrielle’s perfect breasts beneath the small scrap of fabric.

  
She pulled Hermione’s hand to her breast, ran her fingers over the edge of the lace.

  
Hermione was blushing beet red. They were standing in the street and she could feel the curious eyes upon them.

  
She pulled her hand back, hissing, "Gabrielle! We ... we’re in public! It’s lovely, yes, but it’s not me!"

  
"It should be you, ‘Ermione," the blond said softly, rebuttoning her blouse. "It should be every woman. Come! I weell take you to my favorite shop. My treat! I inzizt!"

  
"Well, alright," Hermione conceded. "Where is it? Can we walk there?"

  
Gabrielle smiled a wicked smile and wrapped her arms around Hermione. Hermione felt the sudden, disorienting effect of apparition engulf her, then a few moments later she and Gabrielle reappeared in a small, narrow alleyway.

  
"Gabrielle!" Hermione shouted. "It’s very rude to apparate someone without their permission!"

  
The Veela didn’t seem to hear her as she grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the street. Hermione gasped and looked around at the unfamiliar buildings.

  
"Where are we?" she asked, confused and mystified.

  
"Antibes," Gabrielle answered. "Come. Ze shop is just around ze corner. Zere is a dress shop next door, as well. We’ll get you outfitted and zen go tease some men at ze casinos, eh?"

  
Hermione tried to protest, but the beautiful Veela hauled her into the lingerie shop. Hermione could feel her cheeks heating. The magical, moving mannikins were wearing the most scandalous underwear, if it could even be called that. Most of it was so skimpy that it offered neither coverage nor support as far as she could tell.

  
"Ahh, let’s zee," Gabrielle said as she bustled around. "Ah, ‘ere, _parfait_! Yes, zis pale blue and pink iz perfect for your complexion."

  
Hermione just stared at the tiny pair of knickers and scrap of fabric described as a brassiere.

  
"I...that...that would never support me," she mumbled, gesturing at her prominent bosom.

  
"You don’t want support, ‘Ermione, you want somezing zat feels wonderful against your skin and will make your partner anxious to zee what is under it. Come, let’s buy zis, yes, and zis set as well and get to ze dress shop. It is getting late in ze day. We must bathe and zen we weell go ‘ave zome fun!"

  
The dress shop didn’t have anything Hermione considered proper clothing. Most of it hardly covered the ‘essentials,’ leaving much - way too much, she thought - of her very shapely anatomy exposed to view.

However, Gabrielle bought two silk and satin wrap-arounds skirts and two clingy tops for her, then dragged her out and within a few minutes they had arrived at a very grand-looking townhouse.

  
" _Mes parents_ , but zey rarely come ‘ere," Gabrielle told her. "Come, we must bathe, zen we shall dine on ze waterfront and zen go and tease some boys, eh?"

  
Hermione didn’t take baths that often, preferring the speed and more sanitary nature of a shower. One look at the huge tub, though, and a whiff of the exotic, aromatic scents of various bath beads and oils made her long to enjoy a nice soak.

  
"Zis is your room ‘ere," Gabrielle said, opening the door to a very pleasant looking room with a large four poster bed. "Mine is right across ze ‘all. Get into ze tub, use whatever scents you’d like. I’ll join you shortly."

  
"What!? Join me? What!? Gabrielle..."

  
The gorgeous blond had left already and Hermione figured maybe she just hadn’t heard her right. Hermione undressed, blushing a bit as she stared at herself in a floor length mirror. She did admit, though, that she had a most attractive figure.

There were several more mirrors in the room and even one on the ceiling above the bed, which made her blush even more. There were towels in the closet and she wrapped a long, soft one around her shapely figure and walked out of her room and into the bath.

  
She chose a couple of very pleasant scents, sandalwood and jasmine, and added them to the water. She walked into the sunken tub - it was actually more like a small, indoor pool. The bath oils made the water feel like liquid silk on her skin and a gentle massaging action started as she settled back with a sigh.

  
"I could get used to a bathtub like this," she thought as she felt her body relax.

  
"Ah, yes, jasmine and sandalwood, two of my favorites," Gabrielle gushed as she walked in, dropped her robe and got into the tub.

  
"Gabrielle!" Hermione shouted, her hands going to cover her breasts and triangle.

  
The lovely Veela snickered at her, laughing, "‘Ermione! I am another woman! Why? Why are you ‘iding yourself from me?"

  
"I ... I’m just not used to having someone bathe with me," she mumbled, her cheeks red from more than just the hot water.

  
"Well, I love company in ze bath. Lean forward, I shall wash your back for you. Don’t be afraid, ‘Ermione," Gabrielle said softly as Hermione just stared.

  
"I ... I’m not afraid. Alright, I guess it’s alright for you to ... to wash me," Hermione said, her voice quivering slightly.

  
Hermione shivered a little, not with fear but with pleasure, as Gabrielle’s soft hands and dainty fingers soaped her back. The French witch massaged her a little, then pulled her backwards so she was resting on Gabrielle’s perfect breasts. Hermione loved how they felt pushed into her back and didn’t notice Gabrielle’s hands washing her thighs and stomach, until they clasped her breasts and began tracing slow, sensuous circles on them.

  
"Gabrielle!" Hermione squeaked. "Don’t! I ... I, don’t! What are you doing?"

  
"Just teasing you a little, _ma chérie_ ," the blond giggled. "Oh, ‘Ermione, your body iz so, so lovely, so firm, but so ... so yielding. Come, we are starting to, ‘ow you say, prune, _n’est-ce pas_? We should dress and go to dinner, zen ze casino."

  
They got out and Hermione went to her room and looked rather askance at her undergarments, thinking, "I can’t wear these. There’s hardly anything to them!"

  
She pulled the ‘barely-there’ knickers up, gasping softly as the diaphanous silk literally caressed her skin. The very brief back pulled her buttocks up and made them jut out very sexily, and as the incredibly soft material settled onto her rather shaggy bush, it seemed to melt into her. The narrow crotch nestled in between her suddenly swollen labia and laid on her now rather excited little mound with a light, but thrilling, sensuous touch.

  
She fastened the front hook brassiere, gasping again as the silk literally fondled her breasts, teasing her nipples to hard peaks that poked through the thin, thin fabric. Yet, somehow, she felt better supported in this scrap of silk than in the most torturous underwire.

  
She was smiling, the silk ‘whispering’ on her body as she bent and picked up a outfit from the box on the floor. The loose, clingy top draped perfectly over her large breasts, and as she leaned over, she could see the enticing swell of her tits reflected in a mirror, and wondered how they could pushed up so much by the tiny, silk brassiere. The skirt was a simple wrap-around and exposed almost all of one of her very shapely legs as she walked.

  
The door opened and she gasped as Gabrielle walked in, similarly attired. Hermione felt her heart beat a little faster and an aching throb suddenly pulse between her legs at the mermerizingly beautiful part-Veela.

  
" _TrPs belle_ , _ma_ ‘Ermione," Gabrielle cooed. "We shall break many ‘earts tonight, eh?"

  
"Gabrielle, I ... I don’t know if I can do this," Hermione mumbled. "This ... this isn’t me."

  
"It is you, ‘Ermione, trust me, it is! Come, I ‘ave made reservations for us at _Chez_ Alphonse. Ze zeafood zere is _magnifique_! _TrPs savoreux_!"

  
She let the French witch drag her off to the restaurant and discovered it was one of the finest she’d ever eaten at. Gabrielle seemed to be known to the staff and many of the handsome _serveurs_ would flirt shamelessly with her, and, to Hermione’s embarrassment and secret joy, with her as well.

  
After the meal, the frenetic little blond dragged her to a dance club, where she slapped several hands that wandered under her wrap. At the casino, men proposition her in a variety of languages and accents. She was seriously considering taking a handsome, blond Swede up on his offer of a night of unbounded, carnal delights when Gabrielle pulled her away and out of the casino.

  
"Gabrielle!" Hermione pouted. "I ... I liked that guy! I was ready to go home with him!"

  
"‘E is a pig, trust me," Gabrielle said a little angrily. "If you are ‘aving issues with men, ze last zing you want to do iz pick up zome stranger."

  
"I’m not having issues, I ... I just haven’t found the right partner, yet," Hermione insisted as they entered Gabrielle’s townhouse.

  
"Well, maybe we’ll go out again tomorrow and zee," Gabrielle said as they got to Hermione’s door. "Did you ‘ave fun?"

  
Hermione suddenly hugged the shapely, petite blond, shivering slightly as she pressed Gabrielle’s amazingly soft, but firm body tightly into hers.

  
"Just wonderful! Thank you so much, Gaby," she said happily.

  
"Gaby," Gabrielle sighed, her lower lip quivering a tiny bit. "I ... I don’t usually let people call me zat, but it sounds so ... so beautiful, so ... so seductive from your lips."

  
Hermione gasped as Gabrielle stood on her tiptoes and kissed her warmly, her soft, pointy tongue caressing her lips.

  
Gabrielle broke it and smiled, her face slightly pink, "I am zorry, but I could not ‘elp myself. You’re so beautiful, ‘Ermione, I just ‘ad to kiss you. _Bon soir, faits des beaux rLves_ ," she breathed huskily, walking over to her door and entering her own bedroom.

  
Hermione went into her room, her lips still tingling from the Veela’s soft, sweet kiss. She removed her skirt and top, reached up to unclasp the bra and stopped. Hermione usually slept in a flannel nightgown, with no undergarments, unless is was that time of month. However, the silk brassiere and ‘barely-there’ knickers felt so perfect on her skin that she left them on and laid down on the large bed, stretching and sighing.

  
Almost of their own volition, her hands went to her breasts, teasing her nipples under the soft fabric. One hand then slipped down between her thighs. She moaned as she touched the damp material and began to stroke herself slowly up and down, mewing as the silk teased her suddenly engorged clit.  She blushed as she stared at herself in the mirror on the ceiling, then closed her eyes and continued to pleasure herself.

  
She was so absorbed she didn’t hear her door open or Gabrielle’s soft footfalls as the blond witch approached her bed. Gabrielle’s hands went to her own center as she watched the tall, buxom brunette stroking herself, little purrs of pleasure hissing from her full, lush, pink lips.

  
Hermione suddenly sensed Gabrielle’s presence, gasped and stopped her stroking, crying, "Gabrielle! What ... what are you doing here? What do you want?"

  
The Veela crawled into the bed, stretching her perfect body out on top of Hermione. She was wearing lingerie just like hers, but the Veela’s was ivory colored and even more sheer than her own. Gabrielle’s pink areolae were clearly visible as well as her nearly white, blond pubes.

  
"I want you, ‘Ermione," Gabrielle panted, her lips crashing onto the startled English witch’s.

  
Hermione opened her mouth to protest and found Gabrielle’s tongue inside it, licking and teasing and making her mouth tingle with the most amazingly erogenous sensations. No one’s tongue had ever done that to her.

  
"This ... this is wrong," Hermione’s brain screamed at her, but then she felt her arms surround the smaller woman and pull her even more tightly to her.

  
The two witches continued to kiss, their soft moans filling the room. Gabrielle’s fingers were busy on Hermione’s breasts, teasing the dark brown nipples to diamond hardness.

  
Hermione gasped again as she felt Gabrielle deftly unlatch the bra, then undo her own, pressing her rock-hard, rosy pink nipples onto Hermione’s excited, pebbled peaks. The sensation of the Veela’s soft, firm flesh pushing so insistently on her own caused Hermione to shudder with sudden longing, longing to see and feel more of this incredible witch.

  
She fought it off, her mind screaming, "You’re not like this, Hermione! This is wrong!"

  
She pushed Gabrielle up off her a little, crying, "Don’t, please, no more, Gabrielle! I’m not ... I’m not like this! I like men, I do!"

  
"Don’t fight me, ‘Ermione," the blond whimpered, "don’t fight me. Zis is what you ’ave been missing! I know it. You know it. Let me love you!"

  
"No, no," Hermione cried, "I can’t. I’m not ... I’m not a lesbian!"

  
"Zat is such a cruel word, such a foul label," Gabrielle hissed. "We are lovers, nothing else. Kiss me, _ma déesse Anglaise_ , kiss me. Zis is ze life zat you were meant to lead!"

Gabrielle’s lips seized Hermione’s again. Her tongue made Hermione moan with longing and her hands suddenly slipped under Gabrielle’s tiny knickers, stroking and massaging the soft, creamy skin of her perfect, heart-shaped _derriPre_.

  
Gabrielle’s lips left Hermione’s and traced down her jaw and neck and shoulder and finally came to rest on her full, creamy breasts. Hermione moaned with pleasure as Gabrielle’s soft lips encircled one hardened nipple, then the other, her incredible pink, pointy tongue teasing them to a hardness that was almost painful.

  
Gabrielle began kissing down Hermione’s soft, smooth stomach, then licked and kissed around the lacy edge of the tiny knickers. Hermione’s hand slipped off of Gabrielle’s nether cheeks as the Veela nestled between her legs and her soft, pink lips seized Hermione’s aching, throbbing clit through the soaked silk of the knickers.

  
Hermione arched off the bed, feeling herself shiver with an orgasm unlike any she’d ever experienced before.

  
"Gabrielle, Gaby, Gaby, Gaby," she mewled, pushing the Veela’s blond head tightly into her tingling pussy as her hips bounced and her body trembled with release.

  
Gabrielle raised her head, smiling at the shivering, older witch, and whispering, "I ‘ave just started to show you what love is really like, _mon amoureuse, ma déesee de l’amour_."

  
She quickly stripped off Hermione’s soaked knickers, then removed her own and snuggled her pale, blond snatch tightly onto Hermione’s dark brown one, their pubic hair meshing in a riot of erotic color. Hermione shivered at the feel of the Veela’s hot, soaking pussy rubbing and stroking on her own, their engorged clits sliding against each other in a sensual symphony of exquisite sensations.

  
Hermione pulled Gabrielle’s lips to hers, pushing her tongue into the blond’s willing mouth. She moaned with pleasure as she tasted herself on Gabrielle’s lips. She had never really enjoyed this with a man. What was it about Gabrielle that was making her lose all control?

  
Hermione screamed as she came again.  She gazed into Gabrielle’s now lust-darkened eyes that were staring in to hers as she hissed, "I ‘ave just started to teach you ze pleasure zat lies within another woman’s body, _ma belle Anglaise_."

  
Gabrielle shifted again, pulling them onto their sides. She shifted her position, burying her face between Hermione’s thighs and presenting her perfect pussy to Hermione staring eyes and swollen lips.

  
"I ... I can’t possibly do this," Hermione’s mind screamed at her. "Lick another woman? Put my tongue into her?"

  
Hermione screamed again as she felt Gabrielle’s tongue push up inside her pulsating sheath, the muscles and walls still shivering from her previous orgasm.

  
"Please, ‘Ermione," Gabrielle mumbled from between her thighs, "I must feel you! Your tongue! Your lips! Ah, _mon dieux_! Your taste, _ta bouquet_! _Magnifique_! _Incroyable_!"

  
Hermione was shuddering again, whether with passion or fear she didn’t know. Gabrielle’s incredible feminine aroma filled her nostrils. It seemed so different from the ‘fishy’ smell of other witches in the showers at Hogwarts and the sour smell of semen. It was almost sweet, and as Hermione’s tongue tentatively licked up the pink, open slit surrounded by Gabrielle’s white blond hair, it trembled and thrilled to a taste unlike anything she’d ever sampled before.

  
"‘ERMIONE!" Gabrielle screamed into Hermione’s quivering pussy as she softly circled the swollen, pinkish mound of Gabrielle’s clit with her tongue.

  
"It’s wonderful," was all Hermione’s overwhelmed mind could think as she tucked Gabrielle’s legs under her arms and sank her tongue into the Veela’s seemingly virgin-tight, redolent cunt, twisting and thrusting into the incredible heat and moisture as Gabrielle squirmed and screamed, all the while continuing her own oral assault on Hermione’s dark haired pussy, pulsing clit and dripping sheath. The Veela’s long, pointy tongue was driving Hermione insane as it probed and teased and licked her smooth, slick, tight walls, touching places Hermione never realized existed inside her.

  
Hermione was returning the favor as much as she could, probing deep into Gabrielle’s sweet, soft depths with her now-thrilled tongue, then withdrawing it and stroking the blond Veela’s nub of pleasure with an insistent, gentle pressure.

  
Hermione suddenly noticed her nose was practically buried in the rosy pink pucker of Gabrielle’s arse. Hermione had always regarded this particular piece of anatomy as purely functional and had never let any wizard take her in back. Without even a thought, she pulled her tongue from the squealing Veela’s cunt and circled the tight ring several times, then actually pushed her tongue into it a little way.

  
Gabrielle shivered at the sensation, no witch had ever done that to her before. She immediately returned to favor, Hermione screaming and coming again. Gabrielle quickly buried her tongue back into Hermione’s slick passage, lapping greedily at her flow.

  
Hermione was beyond feeling at this point. She had lost track of her orgasms, the only thing that mattered was Gabrielle’s tongue.

  
"Gaby, Gaby," she murmured. "Come for me, please, come for me!"

  
"Almost, almost," the Veela panted, probing Hermione fiercely with her own tongue. "Curl ... curl it, right ... right there! There! _MON DIEUX_!! ‘ERMIONE!!"

  
Hermione moaned as Gabrielle’s body spasmed around her tongue, her sweet liquor flowing out and filling Hermione’s mouth with the most delectable flavor she’d ever imagined.

  
"Nectar, sweet, sweet nectar," Hermione panted, licking and nibbling at Gabrielle’s swollen labia while lapping up the rest of her release.

  
" _Ma trésor_! _Ma déesse de l’amour_! _Ma_ ‘Ermione! _Je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime_ ," Gabrielle whimpered, almost crying from the delicious, erotic agony in her throbbing pussy as Hermione continued to softly kiss and lick her.

  
The two exhausted witches fell onto their backs, panting and gasping with satiation. Gabrielle crawled around and nestled into Hermione, kissing her fiercely and hungrily as they shared the flavor of their orgasms with one another.

  
"I never dreamed it could be like this," Hermione moaned, kissing Gabrielle tenderly. "Thank you, Gaby, thank you for loving me."

  
" _Mon amoureuse_ , _ma_ ‘Ermione. _Je t’aime_ ," Gabrielle cried, tears of pure pleasure streaking her lovely face as she fell asleep in Hermione’s arms.

  
Hermione awoke the next morning, confused and suddenly abashed at what had occurred. She looked at the still-sleeping Gabrielle, her sweet lips curled into a cupid’s bow, her perfect breasts rising and falling as she slept in Hermione’s arms.

  
"This isn’t me," Hermione thought, as her somewhat sore and aching tongue licked her lips, causing her to tremble from tasting Gabrielle’s sweet juices once more.

  
She got up, trying not to wake the sleeping blond, but Gabrielle’s beautiful, love-filled blue eyes opened and gazed lovingly on the tall, buxom brunette standing naked by the bed.

  
"Come back to bed, ‘Ermione," she whispered, wriggling her perfect body and stretching out her arms to the older witch. "We will make love again and again, all day long. _Je t’aime_!"

  
Hermione quickly dressed in her old clothes, mumbling, "Last night, it...it was, I don’t know, it wasn’t me, though. I ... I’m not a lesbian, Gabrielle. It ... it was wonderful, yes, but it’s not me. I ... I’ll owl you or write you, I don’t know, but I ... I have to go!"

  
"NO!" screamed Gabrielle, sitting up and grabbing at Hermione’s wrist, but it was too late. Hermione had disapparated.

  
Back in England, Hermione went to Ron’s flat, spent the night and left totally unsatisfied. She picked up a Muggle guy at a club the next night, shagged him and left him without even bothering to learn his name. The next night she seduced Seamus Finnigan (not that it was all that difficult), but left shaking her head at herself the next morning.

  
"I’m not a lesbian. I like sex with men," she muttered to herself, but she couldn’t get the picture of Gabrielle’s beautiful face and incredible body out of her mind. She licked her lips, wanting to taste the incredibly sweet tang of Gabrielle on them, actually weeping when all her tongue tasted was stale, sour flavor of Seamus’ semen.

  
She went to Holyhead and watched the Harpies practice. She followed Ginny into the locker room, blushing slightly as the gorgeous redhead stripped off her uniform. Ginny was in such incredible physical condition. Her body oozed strength, but was still soft and feminine. Hermione couldn’t believe that her pussy actually fluttered and grew moist as Ginny stripped off her jockey shorts and rubbed her incredible red-fringed snatch.

  
"Ah, damn, nothing like broom riding to get the juices flowing," she giggled, actually stroking her clit. "Is there something I can help you with Hermione, or are you just going to sit there and stare at my twat?"

  
Hermione managed to mumbled out the story of her night in Antibes and her now total, utter confusion over what she wanted in the way of a love life.

  
Ginny smiled and hugged her, causing Hermione to blush as Ginny’s firm breasts pressed into her.

  
"Well, I’d always hoped that I’d have you as a sister, once you married Ron, but you need to do what makes YOU happy," Ginny told her. "I knew there was something missing in your life, so did Harry."

  
"He did?" Hermione gasped.

  
"Harry is amazingly perceptive these days,"Ginny smiled. "That’s why I love him so much. He knew you were hurting and realized that your weren’t happy in your relationships. Hermione, no one will love you any less if you decide that you prefer a woman to a man. Gabrielle is a beautiful, personable, extremely sensual witch, I’m the first one to admit that."

  
"She’s all that," Hermione muttered, "but, it just isn’t me. I mean, I always thought I wanted a life with a man. I want children, I do."

  
"You can adopt," Ginny said. "Or, hell, Harry will donate sperm for you!"

  
Ginny laughed loudly at Hermione’s red face and gaping mouth.

  
"I’m joking, well, only a little," she said, hugging Hermione again. "Hermione, your happiness is the only thing that matters. A lot of your friends realized that you’ve been unsettled, searching for something, since the end of the war. I think you’ve found it. Don’t let it slip away."

  
"I ... I just don’t know," Hermione sniffled.

  
"Well, tell you what," Ginny snickered, reaching over and starting to unbutton Hermione’s blouse. "Join me and the team in the hot tub. See how you feel after that."

  
Hermione gasped, her mouth worked noiselessly for a minute or so until she managed to croak, "You ... you? You, Ginny? But, you’re married! Married to Harry!"

  
"I swing both ways, Hermione, lots of female Quidditch players do. Harry doesn’t mind, and it doesn’t make me one bit less amorous with him. In fact, he says I’m hotter than ever after shagging another witch. You know, Gabrielle spent a couple of weeks before our wedding trying to seduce Harry."

  
"She did?" Hermione gasped, shaking her head.

  
"She didn’t succeed, so, then, she tried to seduce me," Ginny grinned. "She succeeded in that case. I’m still not sure about her, but Fleur says she’s pretty much female only now. Hermione, do it. We want you happy, we all do. If Gabrielle makes you happy, then we’re all happy for you. Come on, get naked and get in the tub. Damn, Hermione, you are one hot-looking piece, you know that?"

  
Hermione blushed, then happily stripped and lost count of how many times she came with the team.

  
Gabrielle was lying on the beach at Antibes, her stylish sunglasses hiding her red eyes - eyes red from weeping for Hermione. She couldn’t understand why the beautiful English witch had left her. She was so depressed she actually had gone out that first night and picked up a man and brought him home. Once he had gotten what he wanted, he had left her. Alone in her bed, Gabrielle had cried even more the next two nights over her lost lover.

  
She was sunning herself topless, and felt the skin on her perfect breasts beginning to prickle and reached for the sun cream. She was on a Muggle beach and couldn’t use her wand to cast the protection spell.

  
She groped for the bottle, then gasped as a soft, firm hand began to smooth the lotion onto her breasts. She opened her eyes and whimpered with delight as she saw Hermione’s beautiful, brown eyes staring down into her pale blue orbs.

  
"We don’t want you to burn, my gorgeous Gaby, do we?" Hermione breathed, naughtily teasing Gabrielle’s rosy pink nipples as she spread the scented lotion. "I want to kiss every inch of that incredible, creamy skin of yours and then - then, make you scream with delight."

  
"‘Ermione," Gabrielle sniffled. "You are back? Really? I ... I am sorry for being so ... so aggressive, so ... so forward. Please, come back to me."

  
Hermione removed her tee shirt, then the silken scrap of a bra that Gabrielle had bought her. She opened her wrap-around skirt enough so Gabrielle could see the pink and blue, ‘hardly-there’ knickers that she was wearing as well.

Gabrielle pulled Hermione to her, gasping as Hermione’s own naked breasts pressed onto hers. 

  
"I am so, so ‘appy. _Je t’aime_ , ‘Ermione, _Je t’aime_ ," she wept, seizing her lips with her own.

  
" _Je t’aime aussi, ma belle_ Gaby," Hermione whispered as she ravished the young Veela’s mouth, smirking slightly as she saw the faces of the men surrounding them at the beach fall and frown at the sight of the two beautiful women who obviously didn’t need them at all.

 


End file.
